


Control and Virtue

by reapertownusa



Series: Control and Virtue [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bondage, Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, M/M, Nudity, Plot What Plot, Sex Toys, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reapertownusa/pseuds/reapertownusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henricksen enjoys a quiet evening at his apartment despite Dean's best efforts, or maybe because of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control and Virtue

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Consensual D/s, CBT, chastity devices and mild bondage.

Dean stood in the center of the small apartment. It wasn’t nice or rundown - just bland as hell. The place had the appearance of being lived in because it had never been cleaned, but was obviously just somewhere to sleep. Victor really was a workaholic. Even at this hour the man was at his desk pouring over paperwork.

The desk lamp was the only light in the room. Dean had memorized every long shadow it cast over the carpet. He had cataloged everything in the room. Victor either needed to redecorate or start distracting him.

“All work and no play makes Vicky a dull boy...”

“Nice try, Dean,” Victor replied without looking up. “Time’s not up.”

A bead of sweat rolled over his brow. Dean shifted his weight and tilted his head to see behind the stack of files on the desk. The bastard wasn’t working anymore. He was pretending to read some damn pulp novel.

“Come on. I’m way more fun than some stupid book.”

There was a flare of wickedness in the smile that flashed over the agent’s lips. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Can we at least turn on the TV?”

“No.”

With that Victor turned the page and went back to his reading. A minute later Dean began snapping his fingers, lacking anything else to fidget with. His hands were cuffed firmly behind his back. Victor barely glanced up at his impatient squirming.

“This is your own fault. You knew the consequences.”

“Dude, I told you – I had to pick the lock. Sam and I needed to get in that federal building...”

“Impersonating federal agents,” Victor reminded him.

“Yeah, but I make you feds look good.” After a thoughtful glance Victor gave a nod of agreement and Dean continued, “That damn chastity tube would have set off the metal detector.”

“And why did we have to switch to a metal model?”

“Because you’re a sick bastard.” Victor raised his brow skeptically. Dean let out a frustrated huff of air before admitting the truth. “And I’m a slippery son of a bitch.”

“It’ll only be worse when I come over there.”

“I don’t care,” Dean insisted. “I’m bored. I’ve been standing here for an hour.”

With a doubtful look, Victor checked the time. He smirked and shook his head. “Try twenty-two minutes.” Victor finally closed the book and set it aside. “Patience is not one of your virtues.”

“Whoever said patience is a virtue didn’t know how to have any fun.”

“I’m not sure ‘fun’ is the word you’re looking for here, Dean. We agreed you were going to remain in position for thirty minutes.”

“That was before I knew how long thirty fucking minutes was.”

“Something to consider before jacking off to porn on my computer when you’re under restriction.”

Dean gave a dismissive shrug. “Maybe that wasn’t one of my better ideas, but it was an emergency.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted to get caught.”

The agent pushed back his chair and stood, strolling over to Dean. For a moment he stood back, arms crossed over his chest, eyes moving appraisingly over the twitching, exposed muscles of Dean’s naked body. Victor walked a circle around him before running a hand over the sheen of sweat that covered Dean’s back. His already accelerated heart rate quickened.

“I’m wearing a sweatshirt, you’re sweating, and this is about boredom?”

In a brief flash of honesty, Dean shot a pleading look towards Victor. “My balls are gonna fall off.”

“I think it’s a little premature to skip straight to castration.”

Victor chuckled at the strangled sound Dean only barely managed to swallow down. The agent stepped behind him, pressing tightly against Dean’s cuffed hands. One arm wrapped around the slick skin of Dean’s midsection, restraining him in a solid hold. The other hand slid between his legs and found his already painfully throbbing balls. With a hard flick of a finger first against one, and then the other, Victor triggered a guttural moan Dean couldn’t suppress.

“Just take it off.”

Dean’s attempt at an order came out as more of a strangled plea. Victor wasn’t exactly swayed, more like amused. Once again, the agent glanced to his watch.

“You still have eight minutes. I’m just here to make them harder.”

Despite the words, fingers moved to unlatch the leather strap of the ball-separator. Dean let out a breath as the unbearable restraint was released. The cock strap he could deal with, but that damn separator was a serious son of a bitch to wear for more than a few minutes and Victor sure as hell knew it.

“I had my balls in a vice grip for over a year while I hunted down your ass.” As he spoke, Victor massaged his thumb over Dean’s aching scrotum. Dean’s breaths grew shallower.

“You have to admit...it’s pretty fine ass,” Dean replied breathlessly. “Worth the...” The sentence dissolved into a harsh groan as a burst of pain coursed through him. Victor’s fist clamped down on his balls while the strong arm around his chest prevented his body from doubling over.

The pressure only released when Victor’s fingers moved to refasten the separator strap, bringing it one notch tighter. “Son of a bitch,” Dean gasped.

“Your ass is mine, Dean,” Victor breathed against his ear. “You’re not getting off for good behavior, you’re sure as hell not getting off for bad. Ten more minutes.”

“Fucker.”

“Once we’ve found your self control, we’re going to have to work on that mouth. Or maybe just put it to work,” Victor chuckled.

From his pocket the agent revealed an unsharpened pencil with the eraser removed. Dean’s muscles tensed. Victor released his arm from Dean just long enough to pull a rumpled strip of cloth from his pocket and secure it as a gag around Dean’s mouth.

Once it was in place Victor again snaked his arm restrictively around Dean and didn’t waste any time getting to the point. The metal end of the pencil tapped against his restrained balls teasingly at first and then landing sharp strokes in quick succession. Dean bucked against the strong hold, his eyes watering.

Victor replied to his struggle by landing a several even harsher blows to each ball until Dean released a muffle cry into the gag. He eased off, moving to the less sensitive area of Dean’s partially erect cock. It was all relative. When the strokes only fell harder Dean was again groaning, jerking in Victor’s grip as the man mixed in slaps from his hand. The pencil’s tip continued down to strike against the swollen head of his bobbing dick. Despite the pain, Dean’s hips jutted towards the stimulus.

“Control, Dean,” Victor warned.

The pencil moved back to his balls, thumping wickedly until Dean was quivering in Victor’s arms. When he was satisfied, Victor carefully lowered Dean to his knees. “Going to be picking anymore locks anytime soon?” he asked as he removed the gag.

Dean gulp in much needed air, shaking his head vehemently. “No sir,” he gasped out. His wrists jingled in the cuffs, desperate to get his fingers to his front and relieve the building heat. “Can I...”

“No.” Dean winced both at the reply and the sweat that was stinging his eyes. Victor’s hand came up to wipe away the stinging sweat from his brow, but showed no mercy in the other regard. “Your month starts over.”

“Oh, come on!”

His cock twitched in protest. His legs were so shaky with need he could barely remain on his knees. The thought of waiting another month for one damn orgasm twisted his gut with true horror. He stared up at the agent in desperation. Damn Victor and his smug ass smile.

“You only had two days left. Next time find a way to steer clear of federal buildings.” Victor gave another glance to his watch. “Two minutes and I’ll remove the separator.”

“You can’t be serious...I can’t.” Dean’s tone was frantic as Victor leisurely disappeared into the kitchen. “You just gonna let my balls explode?” he called after the agent.

Victor made no reply, but shortly returned with a glass of ice water. He kneeled down beside Dean and held the glass to his parched lips. Dean drank greedily. When Victor decided Dean had enough, he pulled the glass away from his lips and instead held it beside Dean’s head. Gratefully Dean leaned his face against the coolness of the glass.

After catching his breath, Dean returned to complaining. “No whiskey?”

“Maybe. I have a deal for you, Dean.”

It wasn’t fair of Victor to use higher reasoning when Dean was strung out on the tip of a release that wasn’t coming. Dean had to remember to kick Victor’s ass. For now his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes met Victor’s cool, calculating expression.

“Does it involve a get out of jail free card?”

Victor shook his head. “You already used your last one in Colorado.”

“That doesn’t count.” Dean shifted anxiously on his knees. “I saved your ass in Colorado. You totally owe me.”

“Saving my ass from the demons on your ass doesn’t count either. Face it, Dean. Anyway you look at it you’re still mine.” A poorly hidden smirk tugged at Dean’s lips. “That’s what I thought,” Victor continued with a pleased smirk of his own. “The deal is I get you off until you’re damn near ready to burst and then you tell me to stop.”

Dean scowled. “That deal sucks.”

“Not as much as the beating your balls are going to get if you don’t call me off in time.” Victor pulled his heavy weight designer pen from his pocket. The man was a practicalist. He didn’t bother with showy floggers, but damn well could more than make due with what he had. “And an extra month.”

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?” Victor set the pen on the floor beside Dean’s knee. “So what’s in this for me?” Dean asked.

“Whiskey and in one week, I’m attending a conference. Play fair, prove you’re gaining control and I’ll tell you where it is.” Victor tapped at Dean’s pulsing balls. With a grunt Dean bit at his lower lip. “It’s nowhere near here, Sam won’t question it.”

A snap of the separator’s strap sent a surge of relief through Dean’s tensed body. Victor’s fingers moved on to massage the abused tissue of Dean’s sac then twisted it idly between his fingers. Dean didn’t bother suppressing the whimper.

“I’ll bring your key.”

The promise brought a flash of hope to Dean’s eyes. Victor nodded a confirmation that Dean had heard him correctly. He fished an ice cube from the glass, running it over the heat of Dean’s erection and pulling a sharp hiss from him. The momentary numbness that set in was a mixed blessing.

“First you earn it,” Victor said as the ice melted away.

Once the ice cube was gone the leather cock strap was removed. Victor replaced the pressure by encircling his fingers around the base of Dean’s cock and running down his now fully erect shaft. Dean’s body desperately thrust towards the previously denied contact.

When Victor’s fingers slipped down to give special manipulation to the stinging head of his cock Dean nearly checked out completely. He recovered at the last moment, his raspy words desperate.

“Stop...stop!”

Dean’s eyes squeezed closed as he fought against his body’s need. He barely registered Victor’s steadying hand on his shoulder, which was the only thing keeping him from face planting onto the floor. What should have been a release didn’t come. His cock bought it, dripping a comparatively pathetic stuttering stream onto Victor’s carpet, but there was no bliss. No relief.

The rest of his body still hummed with unreleased tension while Victor toweled him off before slipping him back into the replacement chastity device that he was no doubt getting a bill for. It wasn’t until the cool metal encased him and was locked that Victor unfastened the handcuffs from his wrists.

Rolling his sore shoulders, Dean went on to rub the abrasions on his wrists. Victor watched him critically as he pulled up a chair. He added a worn throw pillow and motioned for Dean to straddle the chair, facing the back of it. While he watched Dean, Victor poured them both a glass of the promised whiskey.

“You really should let me cushion them,” Victor remarked with a nod towards Dean’s raw wrists.

Dean gingerly sat with the pillow positioned so his sore balls hung over the edge, free from any additional pressure. He accepted the glass of whiskey and took a gulp before replying. “Yeah, well, you really should reach a little higher when you buy me whiskey.”

Lowering the glass, Dean leaned forward to rest his heated forehead against the back of the chair as Victor’s hands began working the tangled knots from his shoulders. This time it was moans of pleasure that Victor pulled from him.

“If you think this is gonna get you some, you’re right,” Dean murmured. He momentarily straightened in the chair. An evil smirk crossed his lips before he closed his eyes and leaned back into the soothing movements of the strong hands. “In a week.”


End file.
